


Wishverse 09 - Random Fools

by Soledad



Series: If Wishes Were Horses (Wishverse) [9]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Actions Have Consequences (at least here), Canon-Typical Violence, Episode rewrite: s1.09 - Random Shoes, Gen, Heavy-Duty Gwen Bashing, Original Dialogue In Different Context, PC Andy For the Win!, So very AU, The Many Departures of Gwen Cooper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 17:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7722970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soledad/pseuds/Soledad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many different ways to get rid of Gwen Cooper, while keeping the episodes as canonical as possible, including a great deal of original dialogue. A writing experiment. Not for Gwen-fans, obviously.<br/>This time: how Ep 1.09 would have made sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve actually made the effort to re-watch Torchwood’s most boring and pointless episode for the sake of this story. It made me itch… and want to break things… For the sake of my furniture, I had to release some of that venom here. ;))
> 
> Once again, the story is told from PC Andy’s POV. I like the guy. CoE wasn’t his fault. The unfamiliar characters are all nameless extras from “They Keep Killing Suzie”. I only gave them names.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
**EPISODE 09 – RANDOM FOOLS, Part 1**

Police Constable Andy Davidson’s previously good mood darkened considerably as he saw the Torchwood SUV pull up at the crime scene. And it had been such a pleasant day till now! A few lost tourists to nanny, a few bar brawls to break up, and now a nice, clean car accident… nothing out of the ordinary.

What the hell was bloody Torchwood doing here, then?

Andy tried to sneak up unnoticed to the yellow police tape, where Detective Trefor Pugh, a square-jawed, somewhat stocky man in a blue jacket, was listening to the report of the crime scene investigators.

“How fast, do you think, they were driving?” Pugh was just asking a tall, blonde woman in the hooded white paper coverall every member of the Soco was wearing. Andy recognized her as Sara Lloyd.

“I’d say at least fifty miles per hour,” she replied with a shrug. “Probably drunk, too, if the wheel prints are any indication. The victim probably didn’t even notice the car coming.”

“Travelled on the bonnet, bounced, maybe rolled, smashed his face on the road,” Tim Cochrane, a scruffy little SOCO technician added, flashing his camera to document every possibly important detail of the case. “At least the poor bloke didn’t suffer long.”

“So it _was_ simply a car accident, right?” Pugh asked hopefully.

“Based on the evidence, it was,” Sara Lloyd confirmed.

“I see,” Pugh paused for a moment, then his expression darkened. “In that case, what the hell is _Torchwood_ doing here?”

Lloyd shrugged. “Detective Swanson says they knew the victim. Well, at least Cooper did. And you know that Inspector Henderson would do anything to keep Captain Harkness in a good mood – only the devil knows why.”

Pugh pulled a face. “True enough,” he said unhappily. “And since the poor bloke was apparently one of Cooper’s drones, this has suddenly become a Torchwood project… a threat to national security, right?”

“Nah,” Andy quipped from the sideline, “ _that_ would be Cooper with a gun.”

Detective Pugh snorted. “Yeah, I’ve heard about it… So, Davidson, you used to work with her; how comes she always gets what she wants if she’s so bloody incompetent?”

“She’s like a dog with a bone,” Andy replied. “She just can't ever leave things bloody alone. After a while, people just give in, so that she’d stop nagging them.”

“I say it’s the bulging eyes,” Tim Cochrane commented. “She hypnotizes her victims to do whatever she wants. There’s no other explanation.”

“That, and the fact that she spreads her… _favours_ rather generously,” Sara Lloyd added dryly. “Makes the… the _recipient_ fairly vulnerable to blackmail.”

Andy, for a short time also a recipient of Gwen’s… _favours_ , blushed furiously, cursing his fair complexion that betrayed his discomfort to everyone within a radius of ten miles. Sara Lloyd grinned at him.

“Make nothing of it, Andy, it’s not so as if you’d been the only one she’s taken advantage of,” she said. “How else would she have managed to get through police school? He only one I truly feel sorry for is that long-suffering boyfriend of hers. The poor bloke puts up with a lot of shit from her and still believes the sun shines out of her arse.”

While they were sharing a laugh at Cooper’s expense, the doors of the Torchwood SUV opened and out got Captain Harkness, complete with that ridiculous greatcoat of him, comm device in his ear and looking like he owed the place, as always. He was perhaps the most arrogant bloke Andy had ever seen. He walked to the SOCO car in his customary, theatrical manner, coat billowing behind him, and Gwen, looking unkempt and rumpled like someone who’d had to dress in a great hurry, jogging after him like a poodle.

Several possible scenarios were played before Andy’s inner eye, and he felt his annoyance growing steadily. Had Rhys not said that Captain Harkness had something running with that Ianto bloke, from the tourist office at Roald Dahl Plass? They’d supposedly been seen in that little-known coffee shop/second-hand-bookstore in a hidden little lane… and they _weren’t_ shopping.

Why would Gwen always want – and take – that which belonged to someone else? Like at the time when she’d had a romp – well, several romps – with PC Davies, after which Mrs. Davies demanded a divorce, and poor Dion had to stay in some cheap motel ever since. The woman was like a contagious disease… nobody was safe from her, she destroyed everybody. Andy was over his infatuation, thank God… well, mostly… but he felt sorry for Torchwood’s receptionist guy. Ianto was a decent bloke, even if he was queer. He deserved better.

However, Andy’s mood brightened considerably when he saw the third Torchwood member emerging from the SUV. It was that cute Japanese chick with the brains of the size of a small planet, or so Detective Swanson liked to say. Toshiko Sato. Although clad almost similarly to Gwen, in casual jeans and a short, black jacket, she managed to look classy and well-groomed, while Gwen was looking neither of those things. Seriously, had no one ever told her that beyond thirty a gal ought to wear a bra that actually _helped_? Or did she think that her boobs hanging down to her kneecaps were _sexy_?

Andy wondered how in seven hells could he have fallen for her a year ago… and so badly. Perhaps Tim Cochrane had been right. Perhaps it _was_ the hypnotic effect of her bulging eyes, after all.

He edged a little closer to the crime scene, not wanting to miss any piece of info he might pick up from Torchwood, since Gwen would never tell him anything. She only pumped him for police info, never reciprocated. So he could see clearly when Captain Harkness stared down at the body in resigned recognition, saying, “Well, something like this was to be expected, wasn’t it?”

Toshiko nodded in agreement. “He couldn't even cross the road without messing it up,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“I understand you knew this bloke?” Detective Pugh asked. “He didn’t have any papers on him – we thought to ID him through his fingerprints at first, until Kathy Swanson called.”

“His name is – _was_ – Eugene Jones,” Toshiko explained. “We don’t really know anything about him, save that he used to nerve us with his so-called discoveries for quite a while. I think he was a geek… and a rather pathetic one at that.”

Gwen kneeled down near the body. “No bag – nothing,” she murmured, checking the victim’s. Andy winced, hoping that SOCO had already taken their DNA samples, because if they hadn’t, well, the crime scene was compromised now. “I mean, what was he doing here?” Gwen wondered, pawing the victim’s jacket in the vain hope to find something – anything - useful. “Perhaps he was hit deliberately... maybe he really did have something important.”

“Like what?” Toshiko asked. That simple, reasonable question seemed to push Gwen completely off-balance. She opened and closed her mouth several time before she could find an answer, making a remarkable impersonation of a blowfish.

“I don't know,” she finally said defensively. “He was always trying to talk to us, show us stuff. Perhaps we shouldn't have been so...”

“So… _what_?” Toshiko asked, a little impatiently. “We can’t take in every idiot who thinks they have seen a UFO, and I think _this_ ,“ she added, looking down at the body, “is just an ordinary RTA.”

“It was a red car,” Sara Lloyd supplied. “We’ve found red paint under his fingernails. We’ll send the sample to the lab for identification,” he added, looking at Detective Pugh, “and to determine the brand and where it is generally used. Other than that, we’re done here, Detective.”

Pugh nodded. “All right. Wrap things up here and return to the lab.”

“Wait!” Gwen cried, “You can’t just dismiss the chance that someone may have killed him!”

“Oh yes, I can,” Pugh replied calmly. “As far as I can tell, it _was_ an ordinary RTA, just as the lady said. If Torchwood has the time or the resources to waste on such unnecessary work, be my guests – _we_ have real cases to solve. Constable Davidson will assist you in everything you might need from the police. Good day.”

With that, he climbed into his car and left. The forensic team packed their kits and followed suit, leaving the body behind for Torchwood to deal with it. Andy had a hard time to suppress his grin. Detective Pugh might be a bloody moron sometimes, but at least he knew how to put Gwen in her place. Must have been a rare case of immunity to bulging eyes.

Unexpectedly, a mobile phone began to ring somewhere in the grass. Toshiko bent down to pick it up – then she froze in the last moment, giving Lloyd a questioning glance.

“You can check it,” Lloyd said. “We’ve already secured any possible fingertips.”

Toshiko answered the phone, frowned, then held it out to Gwen who had already extended a demanding hand. Gwen took it and glanced at the caller’s ID.

“Hi, Mrs Jones,” she said in what people at the police station called her drama queen voice. “Something's happened. We need to talk to you. Can you give us an address?”

 _Something’s happened. Classy, Gwen, really classy. Frighten the poor woman to death, would you, and that without telling her a thing_ , Andy thought in disgust. They had regular trainings about how to deal with the families of the victims – had Gwen slept through every single one of them? Of course, why pay attention when one can pass the exam in the broom closet…

“Well,” Captain Harkness gave Andy the thorough once-over, “since you’ve been assigned as our liaison in this particular case, PC Davidson, why don’t you get into the car?”

Surprised by the unexpected turn of events but happy that he wouldn’t be left out this time, Andy followed them to the SUV. He wanted to see more of Torchwood ever since Gwen had joined the not-quite-so-secret organization. He’d always been into this secret agent stuff and wanted to become a detective one day.

Gwen, on the other hand, seemed decidedly unhappy with Andy being involved. _Little Miss Sensitive apparently doesn’t want to share her shiny new toys_ , Andy thought sarcastically, remembering the nickname that Ianto bloke had mentioned Gwen by, the only time the two of them had actually spoken to each other. There was clearly no love lost between those; not on Ianto’s side anyway. Which wasn’t really surprising, considering how Gwen was making cow eyes at her new boss all the time, blithely ignoring the fact that Captain Harkness was – supposedly! – with Ianto, and that she was all but betrothed to Rhys.

At the moment, though, Captain Harkness didn’t seem very perceptive for Gwen’s charms, who was holding the door of the SUV, trying to give him the puppy eyed routine and pouting. He simply pointed at the car.

“Stick with the team, Gwen,” he said.

“What?” Gwen snapped. “You're driving, aren’t you?”

Harkness rolled his eyes and got behind the steering wheel. Toshiko climbed into the back seat and gestured to Andy to join her, which he did more than happily. Gwen glared back at him over her shoulder.

“Jaack,” she whined, “why are we taking him with us? He’s not Torchwood; we’ll have to Retcon him afterwards anyway.”

Andy didn’t like the sound of that. Whatever Torchwood might be involved with on a daily basis, it suddenly seemed rather sinister.

“In case you’ve forgotten, it’s still me who decides who gets Retconned and who doesn’t,” Captain Harkness replied dismissively, and started the car.

He turned out to have a rather reckless driving style, and Andy did his best _not_ to lose his lunch by some of the abrupt U-turns and braking maneuvers. He was amazed to see that Toshiko was able to type away on her laptop, completely unfazed.

“Hey, take care!” he protested. “Are you trying to kill us all? You may be a secret agent or whatnot, but you aren’t immortal, you know… and neither are we!”

He couldn’t understand why _that_ made both Gwen and Toshiko break down in hysterical giggles.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
They drove to the victim’s address first, as they couldn’t find anything of interest on his phone from the current day, save from some pictures of random shoes… even though Gwen kept insisting that those _had_ to mean something. That finding the people who wore those shoes could possibly reveal the motivation behind the crime.

“Gwen, there _was_ no crime,” Andy said patiently. “Evidence clearly points at a simple car accident. You still know what _those_ are, right? Not everything ought to be the super secret stuff you’ve been doing lately… whatever it is.”

“But he wanted to tell us something,” Gwen went on doggedly. “Wanted to _show_ us something. Jack, you were there, you tell him!”

“He was a stalker; and a fairly crazy one at that,” Captain Harkness interrupted, his patience fading rapidly. “Owen and Ianto are already at his place, looking through his things. If he had something of true interest for Torchwood, they’re gonna find it. Ianto is nothing if not thorough… and _he_ has ample experience with recognizing that kind of stuff.”

“ _What_ kind of stuff?” Andy asked with a frown.

“Alien artefacts,” Gwen replied absent-mindedly; at Captain Harkness’ death glare, she simply shrugged. “We’re gonna Retcon him anyway, aren’t we? So what does it matter if he knows?”

“One would think Suzie’s case has made even _you_ understand how dangerous a Retcon overdose can be,” Captain Harkness replied, his voice unusually harsh. “I wish sometimes you’d think before you blurt out confidential things, Gwen. This isn’t about you showing off to your former partner, you know. Try to grow up a little, for God’s sake!”

Gwen was too insulted to even find an answer, and they sat in stony silence until Captain Harkness pulled up the SUV next to the Jones house. There they broke the news to the victim’s mother, a rather simple-minded yet good-hearted woman, who promptly started to cry, unable to answer any questions in her understandable grief. Gwen soon lost patience with her and left to question the victim’s teenage brother, leaving the grieving mother in Andy’s care, as usual. 

_As much as she loves to lecture other people about compassion, she’s always been rubbish at dealing with victims’ families_ , Andy thought sourly. _She has the compassion of a brick wall, really… unless she wants to make someone do her bidding_.

With a practice developed through dealing with such situations during his years in the service, Andy managed to calm Mrs Jones down a bit. Then he walked over to the victim’s room, where that weasel-faced Torchwood doctor (the one Gwen was currently shagging – Andy recognized the signs as well as the fact that the affair was apparently winding down) and that Ianto bloke, all posh in his impeccable suit as usual, were looking over the items lying around.

The doctor leafed through various pamphlets and read out their titles with increasing bewilderment, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Black Hole and the Uncertainty Principle by Dr. Louise Nagli, FRS and Dr. William Spencer,” he sighed. “What are we doing here?”

“Trying to get to know the victim, I believe it’s called,” Ianto replied and opened the display cabinet door. “Look at this!”

There were various labelled items on a glass shelf: a disturbingly phallic-looking… something of rose quartz, part of some unknown machine, looking like the weird hybrid of a bathroom tap and a motorcycle model, a lamp that had no visible light source, a translucent container that for some reason was reinforced with a metal part that seemed to have no function at all, several smaller stones, a handful of coin, something that seemed to be petrified flowers and so on. 

To Andy, every single one looked like rubbish, but he assumed the Torchwood folks would recognize at least some of them. Even though at the moment they seemed fairly clueless themselves.

The doctor poked at the handful of round metallic objects. “Are these Roman coins?” he asked doubtfully. Ianto leaned closer to be able to read the label. In his dark suit, deep purple dress shirt and white-spotted purple tie, he looked rather out of place among the rubbish that apparently had been their victim’s life.

“This says pre-Gorgon Pilurian currency,” he said. “Authenticated, too, it seems.”

The doctor gave him a queer look. “Pre… _what_?”

“It means they are fake,” Ianto explained placidly. “Nothing about pre-Gorgon Pilurian culture is mentioned in the Archives; if there were, I’d know about it. Consequently, we can’t have any clue if they had any currency, and if yes, what it was like.”

The doctor nodded. “That’s right. You practically live down there… you and all those frozen corpses.”

“Besides,” Ianto continued, ignoring both the snide remark _and_ Andy’s slightly… _green_ complexion, “the only one who could authenticate alien objects in this country would be Torchwood. And _we_ hadn’t received any such request.”

“What about Torchwood One?” the doctor asked. “Perhaps these are old enough to have been identified by them.”

Ianto shook his head. “They’d have confiscated them; and I can’t imagine that a random fool like Eugene would have been able to find Archie in Glasgow. Nah, I’m fairly sure that this stuff here is fake – which still doesn’t explain how Eugene would have heard about the Gorgons in the first place, of course.”

“There’s quite the market for rubbish like this,” Andy said. “You’d be surprised to know how many fools are out there who believe in little green men and things like that.”

The two Torchwood types turned to him in surprise, as if they’d have completely forgotten about his presence. Perhaps they had. They usually didn’t take outsiders with them while investigating a case.

“I beg to differ,” Ianto replied easily. “We not only know how many folks out there believe in aliens… we also know that those fools are absolutely right. Even though Gorgons are by no means green, of course. They have the appearance of blue, ethereal serpents, each of them composed of several of those serpentine forms.”

“Oi, Teaboy!” the doctor warned him. “Are we supposed to discuss such things with Prince Charming here?”

Ianto shrugged. “Jack must have taken him here for a reason,” he said. “He will know what he’s doing.”

“Yeah,” the doctor agreed, “unless he’s allowed his dick to make the decision again, of course,” he picked up another item, one that looked like a piece of stone with a petrified walnut kern glued to it. “Hey, look, Rice Krispies. Man, there are some rogues out there.”

“Apparently,” Ianto agreed with a blank face.

In that very moment, Gwen stormed in, interrupting their discussion. She was positively fuming in self-righteous indignation.

“You won’t believe what that little toad of his brother said!” she declared dramatically. “ _He walked into a road and got run over_ – was all he had to say. About his own brother! Unbelievable!”

“Well, wasn’t that exactly what happened?” Ianto asked reasonably.

Gwen glared daggers at him. “You’re impossible, all of you! Do you have a heart? Do you care about anyone? This poor young man was trying to tell us something, but we never listened, never! And now he’s dead, and…” she trailed off, noticing an empty display stand on the shelf. “Oh, hang on, there's something missing here!” she whirled around to the puffy-eyed mother of Eugene who was just walking into the room. “Mrs. Jones, do you know what's missing from Eugene's collection?” she demanded.

But Branwen Jones wasn’t listening to her. She looked around in her son’s room, turned upside down by all these strangers, and her tears started falling again.

“Why didn't they stop?” she asked brokenly. “They killed my boy and just drove on...”

Not getting the answer she’d been hoped for, Gwen put down the display stand with an annoyed scowl. Dismayed with the manners of the Torchwood people, Andy took the grieving woman’s arm.

“Come with me, Mrs. Jones, let’s leave them to their work,” he encouraged her gently. “You can tell me a little about Eugene in the meantime.”

Half an hour later the doctor and Gwen had packed Eugene’s things in cartoon boxes and were carrying those boxes to the SUV, where Ianto was storing them in the back of the car. Mrs Jones, standing in the doorway with Andy, stared at hem in shocked disbelief and started to cry again when the doctor walked past her. _That_ finally made Gwen stop for a moment on her crusade.

“I am sorry, Mrs. Jones,” she said in an overly emotional manner that, in Andy’s opinion, lacked any sincerity – then she left, without as much as a glance back. Andy felt obliged to say something comforting to the grieving mother… since nobody else seemed inclined to do so.

“I’m sure they’ll bring it all back as soon as the investigation is closed, Mrs Jones,” he said. “They’ll figure out what really happened, trust me. They’re good at that sort of thing.”


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No amount of Internet research helped me to find out whose head was there in that container next to the jar with the Doctor’s hand. Any information will be thankfully accepted and included into the story afterwards.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
**EPISODE 09 – RANDOM FOOLS, Part 2**

They left the Jones house behind, Captain Harkness driving again, and returned to Roald Dahl Plass. Ianto opened the tourist office for them, but before they’d enter, the Torchwood leader stopped Andy in the doorway.

“It’s up to you now,” he said. “You can turn back and forget everything you’ve heard today. Or you can come in with us – but if you do, your life will change forever, even if we make you forget in the end.”

“Are you trying to scare me off?” Andy asked, a little indignantly. As if he couldn’t face anything _Gwen_ faced on a daily basis!

“No,” Toshiko said, catching up with them, laptop under her arm. “He’s offering you one last chance to get out of all this. If you go through that door, it will be too late.”

“But I _want_ to know!” Andy said. “I want to know what you lot are and what you do… and why all the secrecy…”

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know,” Ianto commented, dropping the box he was carrying into Andy’s arms. “Take this with you, then. I’ll get the body to the autopsy room.”

Andy took another look at the receptionist bloke’s spotless suit and shook his head in bewilderment. These Torchwood types were beyond weird. Which didn’t keep him from following them through some hidden corridor to their underground base, of course. He knew he’d never be offered another chance to get some answers.

A cog door rolled open to allow them entrance to the main area, while alarms were blaring and lights flashing. The place was huge, and at first sight it reminded Andy of old, low-budget sci-fi movies of his childhood… until he saw the workplaces with the computer equipment on them. He wasn’t a computer nerd, but even he could see that those were years, perhaps decades beyond what was currently available for the average Joe.

Of course, the average Joe didn’t keep severed body parts in containers on his coffee table, either.

“Wow!” he exclaimed, trying to decide whether he was amazed or disgusted. “What is _this_?”

“The head of Vexor 11,” Captain Harkness replied matter-of-factly.

“It’s considered as one of the most important archaeological founds of the century,” Ianto added in the pedantic manner of a college professor. “I believe the determination of its origins has lead to a series of heated debates in the scientific communities of several worlds.”

Andy blinked owlishly at this piece of non-information. “And what about that hand in the jar?” he asked.

Captain Harkness’ expression closed at once… and not in a friendly way.

“That’s… confidential,” he replied tersely and ran up to his office. Andy shook his head in bewilderment.

“If I were you, I’d leave the topic untouched,” Ianto advised with emphasis; then he asked. “Coffee?”

“Yours?” Andy beamed at him; he’d only been offered the trademark Ianto Jones coffee miracle once, in the tourist shop, while waiting for Gwen, but that had been an experience he’d repeat every single day in his life. “Always. I like mine…”

“With just a drop of milk and four teaspoons of sugar, I know,” Ianto was already walking towards the shiny and very complicated-looking coffee machine half-hidden behind one of the balconies.

Andy stared after him in open-mouthed awe. “How does he _do_ that?”

“That’s Teaboy for you,” the Torchwood doctor commented, dropping the cardboard box he was carrying onto the table. “Oi, Gwen, here you have the stuff of your idiot – any idea what to do with it? Cos it really looks like just rubbish to me.”

Gwen came in with her own box and put it down next to the other, but her thoughts were obviously elsewhere.

“What was he doing out on that road?” she mused. “Why was he there in the first place?”

The doctor shrugged. “Fuck knows. Categorizing chevrons, perhaps.”

Andy stifled a laugh. Gwen, who only ever watched _Wife Swap_ and other rubbish like that, missed the _Stargate_ reference, of course, and just glared at the doctor open-mouthedly.

The doctor rolled his eyes. “Gwen, he was a _geek_!”

“I don’t care _what_ he was!” Gwen retorted doggedly. “He’s dead, probably because of us, and we owe him to figure out why! I want to know what he last ate, where he'd been...”

“Cos he had a bit of a thing about you, and now you're feeling guilty?” the doctor asked with a smug grin.

 _Guilty? Gwen Cooper?_ Their doctor was obviously delusional! Well, perhaps in this particular case, when she had no reason to be, she actually _was_.

“Sod off, Owen!” she scowled. “This is a serious investigation.”

The doctor – _Owen_ – shrugged again. “You do it, then,” he replied.

Gwen just stared at him stupidly for a moment – and, to be honest, so did Andy. Was the doctor out of his bloody mind?

“I do it?” Gwen repeated, still a little stunned. “The autopsy?”

Owen shrugged. “Yes. I've got a stack of admin.”

Now Andy was sure the doctor was taunting Gwen. No pathologist in his right mind would allow _anyone_ without a medical degree to mess around in their autopsy room… would they?

“Okay,” Gwen suddenly said, with a mulish expression on her face; an expression Andy knew all too well. In their shared past, if always had been the sign of impending doom. “Good, I’ll do it.”

The answer apparently baffled the doctor, who’d perhaps hoped to throw Gwen off her path with that outrageous ultimatum. Obviously, the Torchwood gang hadn’t learned yet that _nothing_ short a planet-wide natural catastrophe could deter Gwen Cooper from her chosen path – perhaps not even _that_.

“You’re sure?” Owen asked, completely bewildered.

“Yes,” Gwen replied determinedly. She’d do what she saw as necessary, and consequences be damned. Even if it meant to maim the dead body beyond recognition. Andy thought of poor Mrs. Jones and briefly considered getting sick.

“Really?” Owen asked, thinking furiously of a way to change Gwen’s mind – and failing.

“Yes,” Gwen repeated, heading down to the autopsy area. Owen jugged after her. After a moment of consideration Andy followed them, determined to hinder her in butchering the victim’s body by force if he had to.

In the middle of the small, octagonal room, Eugene’s body was already on the autopsy table under a sheet. Gwen yanked the sheet down to the dead man’s waist, revealing his naked chest. Then she looked around for something to use.

“Well,” Owen said grimly, “go on then! Number three scalpel. Start at the sternum,” he gave Gwen a shrewd look. “Piece of piss.”

Andy felt the urge to throw up violently, seeing Gwen grab a scalpel from the tray randomly and put the point at the dead man’s chest. Was she truly insane enough to think she could actually do something like that? And that idiot doctor of theirs was letting her?

Fortunately, though, before Gwen could have started to cut the corpse open, Ianto appeared above them, leaning on the balcony reeling.

“Okay,” he said, “a red Vauxhall has been stopped outside Caernarfon. Very drunk guy has admitted knocking a man over near Cardiff. Fits Eugene's description. The man says he thought he'd be okay, so he drove on,” he paused, and then he added in a sad, somewhat overdone manner. “Ah, he was a sweet guy. That's very sad.”

Somehow – he wasn’t even sure himself _how_ – Andy could withstand the urge to scream like a bloody moron. That comment was just too hilarious to bear… and delivered in such a convincing manner, too. Only the manic gleam in Ianto’s eye belied his sincerity. Andy tried very hard _not_ to look at him, or else he’d have cracked up.

Owen rolled his eyes. “Now that the mystery of the millennium is solved, can we get on with some proper work, please?”

Gwen shot him an accusing look but didn’t answer.

“Coffee’s being served in the conference room,” Ianto informed them and left the balcony. Owen’s eyes lit up and he ran up the stairs, taking two for one step, leaving it to Gwen to put the body into a storage cabinet.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Night had fallen, but they were still sitting in the conference room, drinking coffee. Andy knew he should have left an hour or so ago, but since nobody had thrown him out yet, he decided to stay, as long as they’d let him. He very much doubted he’d get another chance to see the place, and there was so much to see, he could spend the night just sitting and cataloguing everything around him.

The underground base of Torchwood was an impressive place, although not in that high-tech, contemporary sci-fi-FX way. There was a lot of tech, sure, most of it completely unknown to him (although he still refused to believe that it would be of extraterrestrial origins), but it was also clear that the place had been there – and used – for a very long time. He wished he could learn more about it, but he didn’t really believe they’d tell him anything.

Captain Harkness and Toshiko were examining a fairly bizarre item in the adjoining lab, using equally bizarre equipment, but the doors were left open, so that they could consult with the doctor, who was just sitting there, eating an apple and reading a file. Ianto was collecting the empty coffee mugs, ready to make a fresh batch of coffee, and everyone was simply ignoring Andy, which was fine with him. A good police officer could learn a lot by observation – and _he_ was a good police officer.

After a while Gwen walked into the lab, wearing a troubled expression.

“Do you think Eugene committed suicide?” she asked everyone and no one in particular. Toshiko, clearly annoyed that she would disturb her analysis, rolled her eyes.

“It was a road accident,” she explained patiently, as if she’d be talking to a particularly slow-witted child, “and there was no alien involved.”

Of course, Gwen was not willing to listen to reason. She never was, as far as Andy could tell, and after a couple of years of exposal, he _could_ tell.

“See, I'm not so sure,” she argued, “because something seems really odd. I mean, I just... I just feel that there's something going on.”

Owen scoffed and threw his apple into the garbage bin in a perfect arch, hitting his target unerringly. “Marvellous. Thank you for that Disney moment. Now, who's making the tea?”

Gwen gave her a wounded look, complete with the unnaturally wide eyes and the trembling lips. “I suppose Eugene's a bit odd and a real local and amateur for you…”

Owen looked at the ceiling as if waiting for divine intervention. Andy could have told him that it was pointless. Once on a roll, Gwen simply couldn’t be stopped. Not even by divine intervention.

“Why is it that only Gwen seems to have a heart?” the doctor asked in a tone that could have disintegrated twice hardened steel with the amount of acid in it. “I don't know if you've noticed but the rest of us are human and amazingly we still manage to get on with our jobs.“

Yep, Andy thought, the romance… affair… whatever between them was definitely winding down. The doctor had apparently reached the disillusioned phase.

Captain Harkness looked up from his work, clearly every bit as annoyed with the disruption as Toshiko had been. “Okay, you two, could you please stop bickering? Some of us are trying to get our work done, you know.”

Now the wounded look of Gwen turned at him. “Okay, fine,” she pouted, doubtlessly expecting her boss to give in under the onslaught of her obvious displeasure. “Leave it, forget it.”

“I have,” Owen replied dryly and returned to his file.

Gwen waited for a moment, perhaps for an answer from her boss, but as Captain Harkness didn’t show any intention to be bothered with an already closed topic, she stomped off indignantly. Owen looked up from his file.

“By the way, Jack, what’s Prince Charming still doing here?” he demanded. “I thought we’d want to keep at least the appearance of being a secret organization. Or is this the day of open doors, and I haven’t gotten the memo?”

“Trial period,” Captain Harkness replied enigmatically. “I thought someone ought to keep an eye on Gwen, and since we all have some real work to do – and that includes _you_ , so you might just get to it! – I’ve asked Inspector Henderson for a loan.”

“And he said yes, of course,” Owen said acerbically. “Who could resist the charm of Jack Harkness?”

Captain Harkness shrugged. “Contrary to common belief, it’s actually Tosh he’s deeply impressed with. Has been since she prevented that murder a few weeks ago. But yeah, he _did_ say yes. And if PC Andy here manages to keep Gwen out of serious trouble in the next couple of days, well, I’ll perhaps consider hiring additional personnel.”

“ _What_?” the doctor pulled a face. “You’ve suddenly developed a bit of a thing for dumb blondes?”

Captain Harkness grinned at him unrepentantly. “Envious, Owen?”

“Oh, please!” Owen rolled his eyes. “Are you trying to make me sick? And aren’t you afraid Teaboy will hold back his favours if you start bonding with Blondie here?”

“No, he isn’t,” Ianto glided into the lab in that ninja teaboy manner of his, placing a fresh mug of coffee in front of Captain Harkness and a cup of tea in front of Toshiko. “He knows I don’t _need_ to stoop to such mundane methods to punish him,” and there was a glint in his eyes that, for some reason, made Andy nervous.

In what sort of kinky games were these two involved?

He shook his head to get rid of that mental image. Torchwood’s butler in black leather, wielding a whip was _not_ something he wanted to have before his inner eye. Toshiko looked up from her work and smiled at him, as if she knew what he had in his mind.

“Ianto is right, you know,” she said. “All he needs to do is to put Jack on decaf – works every time like a charm.”

Andy blushed furiously. As a rule, he wasn’t a dirty-minded one, and he’d certainly never considered before what two blokes might do together when they were… well, doing the dirty. He decided to change the topic before everyone could ask him _why_ he was blushing… not that it wouldn’t have been glaringly obvious.

“You want me to keep an eye on Gwen?” he asked Captain Harkness. “And how, pray tell, am I supposed to do that? She always did as she pleased, even when we were partners, leaving me behind to walk across town. Like the time she used to be stalking you lot.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Owen said, grinning. “Since she knows already that none of us would join her holy quest, she’ll need an idiot to drag around. She’ll seek out _you_ to help her, in no time.”

“You can’t be sure of that,” Andy protested.

“Oh yes, I can,” the doctor fished a DVD from one of the boxes containing Eugene Jones’ belongings and waved with it. “This little pig will make sure that she would.”

“What is that?” Andy inquired.

Owen shrugged. “Some geeky programme; apparently on loan from a video store. As soon as Gwen realizes I’ve nicked her stalker’s stuff, she’ll want to take it back to the store – and she’ll want you with her to impress the owner. _Someone_ has to.”

“But how will that help us?” Andy still didn’t quite get it.

“Gwen would want to investigate the shop owner,” Captain Harkness explained. “Sometimes she’s not… discreet enough, so you need to go with her and stop her before she says something she’s not supposed to say.”

“Stopping Gwen?” Andy laughed humourlessly. “It would be easier to try stopping a steamroller, you know.”

“Nevertheless, you must try,” Captain Harkness said seriously. “And you’ll have to listen to any conversations she might lead. If there’s the slightest chance that Eugene has, indeed, purchase a piece of alien tech, contact us. We’ll come and deal with the problem then.”

“Alien… tech…” Andy repeated, still not the slightest convinced.

“We’ll tell you the details later, if you’ll still want to know,” Captain Harkness promised. “Just keep Gwen out of harm’s way… and out of _our_ hair for the next few days. Tosh’s gonna test a very sensitive piece of brand new equipment she’s developed, and she needs her peace to do it properly. Right, Tosh?”

Toshiko nodded and smiled at Andy in a way that could have melted the heart of a stone giant. Andy knew he was being manipulated, of course, but as long as it meant the cutest chick in Cardiff would smile at him like that, he didn’t really mind.

Besides, if anyone could understand the need to remove a Gwen-sized obstacle from the way of serious work, it was him.

“All right,” he said, “I’ll do it. But there will be a price to pay, just that _that_ ’s clear.”

Captain Harkness raised an intrigued eyebrow. “And that would be…?”

“A date,” Andy prompted. “A proper date, with dinner and flowers and a movie… the whole nine miles. I’m an old-fashioned bloke, you know.”

“Kinky,” Captain Harkness deadpanned, “but I think somehow I’ll manage.”

Andy grinned, choosing to freak out from the idea of having a date with _Jack Harkness_ of all people later. Much later. When they couldn’t watch him panicking.

“Oh, I wasn’t asking out _you_ ," he said, wondering briefly whether the disappointment on the other man’s face was genuine or just show. “I meant _her_ ,” he looked at Toshiko expectantly. “Well, Miss Sato? What do you say? Are we having a deal or not?”

Toshiko blushed furiously, avoiding everyone’s eyes. The reaction surprised Andy a little. Could it be that she hadn’t been asked out for a date for ages? Were these blokes working alongside her blind, stupid or both?

Finally, she looked up at him through her lashes – it was a long way up, as she was so much smaller than him – bit her lower lip and smiled.

“You buying dinner?” she asked teasingly.

Andy nodded enthusiastically. He’d always been careful with his money, which meant he could afford to take out a hot chick to a really good restaurant. “Sure I do. Just name the place of your liking.”

“Then I’m game,” Toshiko said, “as soon as this here,” she gestured vaguely around them, “is done. “I’ll text you when we’re finished.”

With that promise in his pocket, Police Constable Andy Davidson left the Torchwood headquarters, wondering when had he died and woke up in Heaven.


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now this is where we start going heavily AU. The original episode nearly killed me with sheer boredom, so I decided to make a few different turns here.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
 **EPISODE 09 – RANDOM FOOLS, Part 3**

As the Torchwood doctor had foretold, Gwen indeed called Andy first thing in the morning, practically begging him to help her with the video store. Andy played hard to get at first, but then gradually gave in and went with her, since the Torchwood gang wanted him to go. Besides, it was still more interesting than walking the beat – and he didn’t even need to wear a uniform.

They found the video store closed, with no indication when it would open again, so they went to the small lunch café around the corner to ask questions. Unfortunately, the café owner didn’t remember Eugene, even though – according to his credit card bills – he’d had lunch there every single day.

“He must have made a lasting impression,” Andy commented dryly.

Gwen gave him the patented wounded look, then fished Eugene’s phone out of the evidence bag and switched it on, trying to identify the random shoes on the photos. After a while, she gave up and sighed in defeat. “Ah, this is useless…”

“Try the contact list,” Andy suggested. “Some of his friends might know something – assuming he had any.”

Gwen shot him another wounded glare, complete with The Pout, but – oh, wonder of wonders! – actually listened to him. She randomly selected someone named Gary from the list and called… reaching only the answering machine.

“Hi, this is Gary,” a tiny male voice said. “Please leave a message.”

“Hi,” Gwen replied nervously, “my name is Gwen Cooper. I have some very bad news for you, Gary. I'll give you a call back later.”

“Well,” Andy said, “While we’re waiting for the video shop to open, we can as well have an early lunch. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t had breakfast today and I’m starving.”

After a moment of hesitation Gwen agreed, and the café owner soon produced two eggs, ham and chips for them both. It was surprisingly tasty, Andy found. At least the morning wasn’t a complete waste.

After lunch, they went back to the video store, and this time they found it open. Gwen was quite shocked when she had to pay a fine of thirty-four pound for the returned DVDs. The clerk shrugged apologetically.

“Sorry,” he said. “He's had 'em out ages. I haven't seen him in months. I don't think I can bend the rules, just cos he's dead.”

Gwen gave Andy a begging look, but Andy ignored her. He was certainly _not_ willing to pay the fine for Eugene’s bloody DVDs! So Gwen had no other chance than to pay the thirty-four pounds herself – which, Andy could tell by the look of her, she didn’t like… not that he’d care.

“You know what I'm saying?” the video clerk added, putting the DVDs back to their place. “You see, no disrespect, but Eugene had _loser_ written through him like _Brighton_ in a stick of rock. Maybe he just couldn't live with his... failure.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
“He was right, you know,” Andy commented as they left the video store. “This Eugene character of yours used to be a child prodigy, a maths genius… and then, after a failed competition at the age of nine or ten, he simply stopped caring… and started hunting for aliens. He never used those brains of his for anything productive. Instead, he went to work for _Passmore Telesale_ – selling kitchens, home insurances, barbecue sets… that sort of thing. If that isn’t a loser, I’ve never seen one.”

“How come you know so much about Eugene?” Gwen demanded, jealous of her newest pet project.

Andy shrugged. “It’s called a police investigation… I’m sure you’ve heard about it. It’s what the police do, after all.”

“You’re just a beat cop,” Gwen said nastily. “What would you know about a proper investigation?”

“More than you do, apparently,” Andy retorted. “It might have escaped your attention, but I’ve been attending to detective school ever since you joined Torchwood. Besides, I wasn’t doing the investigation. Detective Swanson’s secretary did the background check for me.”

“Eiry Conway?” Gwen asked in surprise. “Since when are you interested in fat cows? And ain’t she lesbian anyway?”

“Not according to Detective Pugh, and he ought to know; the two have been dating for months, after all,” Andy said. “I’ve just asked her nicely, and she did me a favour. Being friendly often works, you know; perhaps you should try it, too, instead of talking down to them from your high horse.”

Gwen scowled at him. “Very funny! What did you say, where Eugene used to work?”

“ _Passmore Telesales_ ,” Andy repeated with a sigh. He had an inkling what was about to come – and wasn’t disappointed.

“That’s where we’re gonna next,” Gwen decided. “Perhaps there we can identify the owners of those shoes on Eugene’s photos.”

Andy resignedly agreed. He knew it would be boring and pointless, but at least it would keep Gwen away from the Torchwood base, and Toshiko would be able to do her job properly.

“All right,” he said, “let’s go.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
 _Passmore Telesales_ turned out to be one of those depressingly uniform office buildings, with small cubicles for the individual salespersons sharing a large company area. Emerging from the elevator, Gwen and Andy walked in, Gwen holding out Eugene’s phone to check the phone pictures of shoes and looking for a matching pair in the office. At the water cooler, she finally recognized a pair of well-worn sneakers, worn by a portly, dark-haired young guy and walked up to him.

“Are you Gary?” she asked. Eiry Conway’s background check said that there was a co-worker named Gary at the office; it was still a shot in the blue, of course.

The guy looked at her in surprise. “Yeah, yeah. How do you, er... ? Are you...”

Apparently, as much as Gwen sucked at a proper investigation, sheer dumb luck was on her side – again.

“Gwen, yes,” she replied impatiently. “I was just wondering whether you saw Eugene the day he died.”

 _Great question, Cooper_ , Andy thought. Now the guy wouldn’t tell them, even if he had.

And indeed, Gary became shifty-eyed and very uncomfortable all of a sudden. “No. Sorry,” he replied hurriedly. A mole could have seen that he was lying through his teeth. He’d even begun to sweat, as he excused himself and went to organize a condolence card for Eugene’s mother.

Gwen made no attempts to stop him – not that Andy would really want her. All he wanted was to be done with this ridiculous investigation, and he just began to hope that they were finished, when a woman stopped them.

“Is it true?” she asked, teary-eyed. “He got run over?”

They confirmed it, and she promptly treated them to a long and convulted story about Eugene wanting to sell an alien artefact on e-Bay to raise enough money for her; for a fight to Australia. _That_ almost made Gwen whoop in triumph.

“What kind of alien artefact?” she asked.

The woman, whose name was Linda as they’d learned in the meantime, shrugged. “It looked like a plastic eye. He swore it was an alien body part, though… and that if would bring him in a lot of money.”

“And?” Andy asked, a little impatiently. “Did it?”

“Oh, yeah,” Linda said with shining eyes. “Not right away, though. The first offer was just two pounds fifty… some kid from Birmingham. But after a day or two, the bids started going up… to two hundred… three hundred… one thousand… and that was just the beginning! At three thousand pounds we were all crazy about the whole thing. And then, one day… one day it just jumped, from three thousand to fifteen thousand! Fifteen thousand, for a spare body part!”

“Did you ever find out who bought it?” Gwen asked.

Linda shook her head. “Nah, sorry. All I know is that Eugene went to meet the buyer on the day he died. At least he planned to. And if you didn’t find the eye on him – you didn’t, did you?” Gwen shook her head. “Well, then he must have met them, right?

“Only he believed that the buyer was actually an alien who’d wish to have his prosthetic eye back,” Gary, who’d come to listen to them, added.

Andy gave him a suspicious look. “So, you _did_ see him on the day he died, after all?”

“Yeah,” Gary replied, a bit uncomfortably. “I met up with him before he went to meet the buyer… alien… whomever.”

“And this was somewhere on the A48 perhaps?” Gwen asked.

Gary shrugged. “Or not. Eugene was very secretive. As much as I know it could have just as well been in Splott.”

“In Splott?” Gwen repeated, baffled.

Andy shook his head. That didn’t sound right at all. His instincts told him that Gary was lying again; he just couldn’t figure out why. He’d have to ask Eiry to do a background check on this Gary character, too. Or better Yvonne. While Eiry was more than willing to do him a favour, Yvonne was their technical analyst. She could take a look into this bidding process. Something was decidedly foul in this.

He wanted to warn Gwen, but she wasn’t paying her any attention, as usual. Instead, she took out Eugene’s phone and showed Gary the pictures of the other shoes.

“Who are these people with you, Gary?” she asked. “Why would Eugene take a photo of your shoes? And, whose are the other shoes?”

Gary looked at the photos and shrugged. “They're just random shoes, I should think.”

He handed the phone back to Gwen and returned to his cubicle. He was supposed to work here, after all.

In the next moment, Gwen’s phone rang. It was Owen – and irate enough for even Andy to hear him through the phone. “Gwen, Jack wants to know where you are.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Gwen replied sheepishly. “I had a few things to sort out. I'll be back later.”

“Yeah, well, make it quick,” Owen snapped and hung up.

“Well, here goes nothing,” Andy commented. “We must go back to Cardiff, it seems, and continue this thing tomorrow.”

“You go back,” Gwen replied, without looking at him. “I’ll stay here in a motel and try to catalogue all that we’ve found out. Take the car if you want; I’ll call a taxi in the morning. Since apparently Jack decided that you’re part of the team now, you can report in for me.”

Andy found the idea really stupid, but he knew better than to argue with Gwen. Besides, he really needed to go back to the police station and have that background check made. Yvonne might not be the genius Torchwood’s Miss Sato was, but when it came to find actually existing facts, no one could beat her.

“Very well,” he said. “Give me the evidence bag with the pocket contains, too. Perhaps I can get SOCO to look at it, now that Inspector Henderson feels like cooperating.”

Gwen hesitated for a moment, but then handed him the back wordlessly… which was a first. She must have been unusually preoccupied to do so without arguing, but Andy wasn’t questioning his rare good luck. He took the back and got into his car to drive back to Cardiff.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
He was barely out of town when something occurred to him. He pulled the car to the side, and – not knowing Torchwood’s actual phone number – called the tourist office. As expected, the receptionist answered the phone.

“Tourist information shack Cardiff, Ianto Jones speaking. How may I help you?” he asked politely.

“This is PC Davidson,” Andy replied. “I need to speak with Captain Harkness. It’s sort of urgent.”

“I’m afraid he isn’t available at the moment,” Ianto said. “There’s been an… incident, and he, Tosh and Owen have gone out to investigate. Is there anything _I can_ do to help?”

Andy thought furiously. If Ianto was indeed shagging Captain Harkness, as Rhys had assumed, then the Captain would probably more willing to listen to him than to a police constable he barely knew.

“Perhaps you can,” he said. “ _If_ you can arrange that Captain Harkness call Gwen back for some work-related reason, that is. I’m getting the feeling that there’s more behind Eugene’s death than it meets the eye.”

“It was the police that declared it an accident,” Ianto pointed out reasonably. Andy sighed.

“I know that; that’s not the part that worries me. It’s the fact that shortly before his death, he apparently sold a so-called alien artefact on e-Bay, _for fifteen thousand pounds_! And that we didn’t find either the artefact or the money on him. The accident itself might be just a coincidence… but not the fact that he was on the road that day.”

“I see,” Ianto paused. “You think he was meeting the buyer, right? What sort of artefact was that?”

“People who saw it say it looked like a plastic eye,” Andy told him. “I’m going back to the police station and have our technical analyst look into the bidding process, but if Gwen starts nosing around alone…” he trailed off, but Ianto understood at once what he meant.

“She didn’t come back with you?”

“Nah; said she’d stay in some motel,” Andy sighed again in frustration. “I don’t even know what I’m gonna tell Rhys about this!”

“Leave him to me,” Ianto said. “I’ll also search a little in our database concerning the artefact. Even if it’s fake, it might be registered. And I’ll talk to Jack about calling Gwen back – not that she’d listen if she doesn’t want to, not even to him.”

“Thanks, mate,” Andy said in relief. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” Ianto replied without any false modesty. “And now you owe me a couple of beers. Keep me informed, will you?”

“Sure,” Andy said automatically; then something occurred to him. “Tell me, mate, do you ever go home?”

Ianto laughed tiredly. “Only to sleep – and even that far too infrequently. See you later, Andy. And good luck.”

He hung up, and Andy drove back to the police station. There he visited Yvonne in her tiny office, and while she was as overworked as ever, she’d always had a soft spot for Andy and promised him to look into the case as soon as he could find a moment.

“I cannot promise you a deadline, though,” she said apologetically. Andy laughed, kissed her on the cheek and thanked her.

Then he walked over to the labs, where he found Tim Cochrane alone… and bored out of his head.

“I’m on emergency call,” the scruffy little crime scene investigator explained, “and I find it easier to wait here than at home. Being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night is one of the worst things that can happen.”

“Where are the others?” Andy asked.

“Big shooting in Splott,” Cochrane replied with a yawn. “No casualties, thank God, but shitloads of work. What are _you_ doing here, though? Hasn’t Henderson loaned you to Torchwood?”

“I wanted someone to take a look at this,” Andy handed him the plastic bag. “I don’t have high hopes, it’s probably full of Gwen’s fingertips, but who knows, we might get lucky.”

Cochrane donned a pair of rubber gloves. “Are these from the road accident victim from yesterday? I thought it was declared as an accident, nothing more.”

“His death _was_ an accident,” Andy said. “But something might be foul with what happened shortly before, and he’d probably been mugged. So we know where he might have been before he got run over.”

“All right,” Cochrane took out a set of keys from the plastic bag and held it high. “Hmmm… no car keys; did he have a car at all?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Andy took a closer look at the alien head keychain and shook his head. “He was a small salesperson, and not even a good one, it turns out.”

“ _And_ a geek,” Cochrane added, poking at the alien head.

“And a geek,” Andy agreed; then something caught his eye: a piece of crumpled paper, caught in the keys. “Hey, there is something!” he reached out, but Cochrane snatched the keys out of his reach.

“Leave it alone, you don’t have any gloves on!” he laid the keys on the table, took a pair of tweezers and got the paper. As he unfolded it, an orange pac man was revealed.

Andy frowned. “What the hell is that?”

“I’m not sure, but it does seem familiar,” Cochrane thought for a moment, then his eyes lit up. “Got it! This is the emblem of the _Happy Cook_ – a restaurant at the A48… does it help you in any way?”

Andy nodded. “Oh, yes. According to the witnesses, the victim was going to meet someone in a restaurant on the day he died. Now we know which restaurant it was. Thanks, Tim, I owe you one!”

The crime scene investigator waved off his thanks. “Don’t mention it. Just tell me what it was all about when you’ve figured out okay?”

“I will,” Andy promised and left.

Outside it was still quite bright, and he hesitated for a moment, uncertain what to do. Officially, he was still on a loan to Torchwood, but at the moment there was nothing he could do. Not before Yvonne would contact him with some news. Hopefully, there _would_ be any… or he was chasing shadows.

He could have gone home, of course, to catch up on too much missed sleep. But his empty little flat didn’t seem too inviting at the moment. So he did the only thing he could think of: he bought a six-pack of beer and headed to Roald Dahl Plass, to visit Ianto Jones in the tourist information office. Perhaps they could have a nice little chat while he was waiting for the results.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Ianto acknowledged his presence with a simple nod, as if he’d expected him.

“I must stay here while the others are out,” he said, “but you can sit down in the kitchen area, back there,” he gestured towards the beaded curtain. “You can put the beer in the fridge.”

Andy did as he was told, and Ianto soon joined him, ordering a vegetarian pizza from Jubilee, which was delivered within ten minutes. They shared it – and the beer – while Ianto was watching something he called ‘Rift activity’ on a small, well-concealed LCD screen, so very different from the bulky, old-fashioned desktop monitor standing on the shop counter.

“I’ve started a search in our database,” Ianto told him between bites of pizza, “and it seems to me that the only item in question – be it real _or_ fake – would be a Dogon eye.”

“A _what_?” Andy asked, fairly bewildered.

“Dogons are a reptilian race with thirteen eyes, each of which grants them especially enhanced perceptions in various respects,” Ianto explained matter-of factly. “There was a trade in them, since a Dogon ship crashed into the Humber a few years ago. After the crash, several Dogons were dissected and investigated by Dr. Rajesh Singh from Torchwood One.”

“Whoa, mate, slow down on me!” Andy protested. “Even if I’d buy the alien part, which I do not, how comes that you’d know about such stuff?”

Ianto shrugged. “I used to work for Torchwood One – the London headquarters of our organization – until it was destroyed. I’m one of the twenty-seven survivors.”

“Oh, man,” Andy swallowed hard. He had heard of the destruction of Torchwood Tower, of course; everyone at the police had. “But there were a lot of people in that building…”

“Almost eight hundred,” Ianto said flatly. “I was a junior researcher there, so I learned a lot about this kind of stuff, as you call it.”

“So you truly believe this thing Eugene sold is an alien body part?” Andy asked thoughtfully.

Ianto shrugged. “It _is_ possible – although it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that the buyer believed it was a real one. Then they’d pay every price for it – those things are high in demand.”

“But why?” Andy felt bewildered. “What do they do? What are they good for?”

“I suppose it must be a sixth eye,” Ianto mused. “It's one in the back, you know. According to Jack, it lets you see behind you… where you've been. Kind of puts things in perspective. It's useful, fun, slightly terrifying, but basically harmless.”

“In other words: a drug without side effects,” Andy decided.

Ianto shrugged again. “Well, if it leads to addiction, then it’s not much better than the other kinds, is it. Besides, we still have no idea how a prolonged exposure affects the human nervous system. So, getting it back would probably be a good idea.”

“You mean now that there’s supposedly an alien involved, Torchwood actually will investigate?” Andy asked hopefully.

Ianto nodded. “It’s our job to collect alien artefacts,” he said soberly and fished out his mobile phone. “I think I’ll call Jack now.”


	4. Part Four

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
**EPISODE 09 – RANDOM FOOLS, Part 4**

The Torchwood field team returned about half an hour later, dragging an unconscious form of the size of a grown man out of the SUV and taking it down somewhere under the main area, while Ianto and Andy were watching them on the LCD monitor. The… _thing_ had a hood pulled over its head but had to be still alive, because they didn't take it to the autopsy room.

“What is down there?” Andy asked, getting decidedly uncomfortable.

Ianto gave him a quick glance, as if considering how much he should reveal.

“The cells,” he finally said. “Built in the Victorian era, like the rest of the place. Designed with the help of salvaged alien technology, to contain possible threats. Nothing has ever escaped from those cells, I’m told.”

Andy noticed that he’d said _nothing_. Not _nobody_.

“So you aren’t keeping people down there?” he asked.

“No humans,” Ianto corrected. “Aliens are people, too… just not very pleasant ones, most of them.”

“Just let’s assume for a moment that I’d believe in aliens,” Andy said slowly. “Why would they want to come to Earth in the first place? We were taught in school that our solar system is a rather unimportant one, somewhere in the arse of our galaxy; a run-down suburb of the Milky Way.”

“Well, street gangs _are_ known to fight for dominance in run-down suburbs,” Ianto pointed out. But really, it’s the Rift that draws them here.”

“The _what_?”

“There’s a space-time rift, running under Cardiff,” Ianto explained. “One end of it is located in the Bay, the other is floating freely in space-time, and matter and radiation can pass through it, allowing extraterrestrial and extratemporal artefacts, and occasionally lifeforms, to wash up in Cardiff. It has been discovered in the late eighteenth century, and Torchwood Three has been monitoring its activity ever since – that has always been the main purpose of our branch. Most aliens don’t come with an invasion fleet, you know… they get here through the Rift. And since it’s a one-way trip most of the time, they’re usually stranded here.”

“And it’s your job to deal with them,” Andy said. Ianto nodded. “How do you do it? Do you just kill them?”

Ianto shook his head. “Not if we can avoid it, no. That might have been official Torchwood policy once, but Jack is against unnecessary killings. If they’re friendly, which is, sadly, a rarity, we help them hide or adapt. If they’re hostile enough to become a threat, we put them into the cells. If _that_ would still be too much of a risk, they go into cold storage.”

“So, the thing the others have just brought in…” Andy trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence.

Ianto nodded. “It was a Weevil… or so we call them, since we don’t know their true names. We’ve got quite an infestation here in Cardiff. Fortunately, they live in the sewers, keeping the rat population down, so they’re actually useful. Sometimes, though, the one or other gets out onto the surface, causes panic... then we hunt them down and shut them away.”

“Can’t you send them back?” Andy asked.

“The Rift doesn’t work like a regular transport system,” Ianto explained. “It’s unpredictable and elusive – if we sent someone in, we wouldn’t know where they’d end up. Besides, we don’t know where the Weevils came from to begin with. So we just kind of try to keep them in the sewers. That’s the best for everyone… save the rats, of course.”

Andy found he didn’t feel particularly sorry for the rats.

The old-fashioned phone on the counter rang. Ianto picked up the receiver, listened for a moment, then hung out the _Closed_ sign and, pushing a hidden button, opened the door that led down to the secret base.

“Go on,” he said to Andy. “Jack wants to speak you. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Getting down to the Hub for the second time was even more overwhelming, as now he was doing it alone. When the cog door rolled to the side for him and he stepped out into the workspace platform, he found Captain Harkness yelling at someone through his mobile phone.

“Okay, you’ve got the weekend,” he was saying when Andy entered. “But keep your phone on. I need to be able to reach you.”

He hung up and looked at Andy. “It was Gwen. She says she’s gone to have dinner at a restaurant called the _Happy Cook_ , near the crime scene, and that she recognized the shoes of the waitress on one of Eugene’s photos. She wants to stay there and question the woman about Eugene.”

“Sure, what else,” Andy replied unhappily. “It isn’t so as if we’d have been warned _never_ to interrogate a witness in unknown terrain alone, right?”

“So why would she do it?” the doctor asked from his desk where he was checking something on his monitor.

Andy shrugged. “She’s always been like this,” he said. “Sometimes she’d have fairly good instincts; managed to spot things others would overlook. But she’s _always_ sucked at carrying out the simplest investigation properly. She just can’t understand that the rules are there for a reason.”

“I’m surprised she’s still alive, actually,” Owen said. “With an attitude like that…”

Andy shrugged again. “Oh, she’s like Teflon. People get shot and killed left and right of her, but she’s never seriously harmed herself. She had, I think, two or three partners before me. One got killed, one so severely wounded he had to retire… I’m not even sure what happened to the first one. Some people flat out refused to work with her. Said it was too dangerous.”

“I don’t blame them,” Toshiko muttered darkly.

Captain Harkness shot her a warning glance. Whatever he might think of Gwen personally, he apparently didn’t like if his female co-workers fought with each other.

“Have you found out anything?” he then asked Andy.

“Only that Eugene indeed visited the _Happy Cook_ before his death,” Andy replied. “Presumably to meet the potential buyer. I’ve asked our technical analyst to look into the bidding process; perhaps she’ll find out something for us.”

In this very moment his phone rang. It was Yvonne. Andy put her on speakers, so that the others could follow. Toshiko started recording. Now that possible alien artefacts were involved, it _had_ become a Torchwood issue.

“Your instinct was right,” Yvonne told Andy. “That Gary Heimlich character hiked the bid. He created three or four online aliases, and used them to inflate the price.”

“But why?” Andy asked.

“It’s a fairly standard practice,” Yvonne explained. “That’s how really big money is made. Some people just can’t help outbidding each other. Of course, if the one manipulating things misses the right moment to fold, the whole thing can collapse like a card house. I think that’s what happened here.”

“What do you mean?” Andy wasn’t really getting it.

“Well, the bids rose steadily till three thousand pounds,” Yvonne answered. “That’s how far this Heimlich person was involved, I think. And then… the bid jumped to fifteen thousand.”

“Do you know who made _that_ offer?” Captain Harkness asked.

The unknown voice clearly unsettled Yvonne. “Andy, who’s there aside from you?”

“It’s okay, Yvonne,” Andy said. “It’s someone I work on this case with. Inspector Henderson’s orders.”

“Well, it’s your funeral,” Yvonne replied. “Anyway, I checked the bid history. It’s a certain Mr. C. Blackstaff; a collector of alien ephemera, whatever those are supposed to be. And Nazi memorabilia. And beanie babies. Clearly a little bit cuckoo, but almost disgustingly rich. And if he wants to pay fifteen thousand for a plastic eye, he can certainly afford it.”

“Some people just can’t be helped,” Andy commented.

“Yeah, but he didn’t get it,” Yvonne replied. “Someone bid fifteen thousand five pounds and fifty pennies, and with that, the bidding abruptly ended. Mr. Blackstaff must have realized he was being played, and this Gary Heimlich now stands there with a bid he – according to his bank account – wouldn’t be able to pay off in the next twenty years. If _that_ isn’t a motive, then I’ve never seen one.”

“I tend to agree with you,” Andy said. “Thanks, Yvonne, I owe you dinner,” he hung up and looked at the Torchwood gang. “So, if the rich collector doesn’t have the eye, Gary couldn’t pay for it and Eugene didn’t have it on him… where can it be now?”

“And whom did Eugene meet before his death?” Ianto added. “Whom did he run away from so blindly he didn’t even see the car that ran him over?”

“What if he met his Gary and his cronies?” Toshiko asked. “If they saw how much some rich fools would be willing to pay for some rubbish, perhaps they tried to take the eye from Eugene and re-sell it on the internet.”

“Are there any such offers at the moment?” Captain Harkness asked.

Toshiko sat to her computer and researched for a few minutes.

“No, nothing,” she then said. “Either they are shrewd enough to sit on it for a while… or they don’t have it.”

“Who does then?” the doctor asked.

Andy looked at him. “It’s just an idea, but… you never actually performed that autopsy, did you?”

“Of course not,” the doctor snorted. “I’ve sent the body to the city morgue, where it belongs. Oh…” he suddenly realized what Andy was thinking. “You think it might actually be _inside_ him?”

Andy shrugged. “The best way to ensure they can’t take something from you is to swallow it… well, temporarily anyway.”

Captain Harkness nodded. “That’s true. Owen, I think you ought to call that mortician pal of yours. We _need_ to know whether the eye is a genuine item or not.”

“Oh, he’d be so happy!” Owen said sarcastically, and walked over to the phone to make the call.

“All right,” Captain Harkness said. “Go home, people. There’s noting that couldn’t wait till tomorrow; and should anything happen, I’ll be here anyway. Go and have some decent sleep… and that means you, too, Ianto.”

“I’ll just finish cleaning up, sir,” Ianto began, but Captain Harkness interrupted him.

“No, you won’t. The Hub’s clean enough as it is now. And I can put away the empty pizza boxes this one time. Go!”

Toshiko and the doctor were already halfway out of the Hub. Ianto put on a martyred expression but followed them nonetheless. Captain Harkness looked at Andy.

“Will you come in tomorrow with the others?” he asked. “I think we’ll need to go and fetch Gwen before she gets into real trouble, and you’ve known her the longest.”

“Not that it would do me any good,” Andy replied, “but yeah, I’ll come. I like it here.”

“You’re hopeless, then,” Captain Harkness laughed, letting him out. “Nobody _likes_ Torchwood. People just usually don’t have any other choice.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
In the morning, Andy got back to Torchwood really early. It was only half past seven when he found himself standing in front of the tourist information office. The shop was closed, but he could see Ianto moving around within, this time wearing a three-piece-suit with a pink shirt and a silver tie. Not many people could have worn those colours and still look as good in them as he did, Andy had to admit.

After a while Ianto spotted him, too, and let him in.

“You’re early,” he said. “Tosh and Owen haven’t even called in yet, and I’ve just arrived an hour ago myself.”

“What about Captain Harkness?” Andy asked.

“Well, he _lives_ in the Hub, so he’s practically always in, unless he’s out on the field, of course,” Ianto replied, opening the secret door for him. “Go on, I’ll be with you in ten minutes. Coffee’s already in the making.”

Andy walked down to the base and found Captain Harkness in his office, studying some files and drinking coffee.

“Any news from Gwen?” he asked.

“She called late in the night,” Captain Harkness replied, “babbling something about Eugene having a big fight with some mates on the day he died. He must have found out the bid was hiked – perhaps he met with his Gary character. Gwen’s now trying to figure out who the third person in the whole business was.”

Andy sighed. “I’d best go to her now and see that she doesn’t piss off the wrong people again,” he said. “Whatever role Gary had in Eugene’s death, there’s a lot of money at stake. And it’s a proven fact that people are less… hesitant the second time to remove someone from their way to the big money.”

Captain Harkness nodded. “Go. Ianto will give you a headset, so that you can be in contact with us when we’ve caught up with you. Tosh and I need to finish the test run of her new programme but will go after you as soon as we’re done. Owen, you go to the morgue and got the eye.” He turned to the doctor who was walking through the cog door right on clue, “and do your tests in the meantime. Ianto…”

“I’ll hold the ford in your absence as always,” Ianto finished for him, clearly not bothered by the perspective of being left behind again. “Coffee anyone?”

“I want a biscuit, too,” the doctor said petulantly.

“Ask nicely and I might consider it,” Ianto replied.

The doctor glared daggers at him. “Ha, ha, very funny, Teaboy!”

Ianto shrugged nonchalantly. “No biscuit then.”

“Hey, what’s your problem?” the doctor demanded. “You’d feed chocolate to the bloody pterodactyl, but you wouldn’t give me a sodding biscuit?”

Ianto shrugged again, handing Andy a mug of excellent – and _very_ sweet – coffee.

“Myfanwy is _nice_ to me,” he replied simply.

Andy wisely decided _not_ to ask about any prehistoric reptiles the Torchwood gang might hide in their base. Not yet anyway.

When he left half an hour later to join Gwen’s so-called investigation (mostly for reasons of damage control), the doctor was still sulking because of the denied sweets. Andy shook his head as he drove across the city. With an attitude like that, it surprised him that the Torchwood people ever got any work done at all.

On the other hand, of course, it explained how Gwen had managed to fit in.  



	5. Part Five

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
 **EPISODE 09 – RANDOM FOOLS, Part 5**

He had a few things to wrap up for his _actual_ work first, as well as to report in to Inspector Henderson, who wanted to be informed about the case. Andy told the inspector everything, save the fact that the alien eye _might_ be a genuine item – something he didn’t quite believe anyway. However, as he had to wait almost an hour in front of the inspector’s office, and got into a massive traffic jam afterwards, it was almost lunchtime when he finally reached the motel where Gwen had stayed in the previous night.

Gwen didn’t seem to mind. She was fully taken by her discovery – apparently, the waitress in the _Happy Cook_ had been wearing a pair of shoes the likes of which she’d been wanting for ages – but her excitement was quickly deflated when Andy told her the details about the hiked bid and Gary’s supposed role in it. Mostly, it seemed to bother her that _she_ hadn’t been the one to figure it out.

Andy rolled his eyes. “Gwen, that’s what labs and technical analysts are for!” he pointed out. “Police work is based on solid facts, not on hunches of a single person – you ought to know that by now.”

“Labs and cold technology can never replace the human touch,” Gwen told him. "You’ll see, Andy. Come, let’s have lunch. Jen, that’s the waitress at the _Happy Cook_ , told me that Gary and his mate often go there for a bite. We can confront them there.”

“You do realize, of course, that we aren’t supposed to _confront_ any suspect in a potential murder case without calling in reinforcements, right?” Andy asked.

Gwen waved off his objections.

“This isn’t a mundane police investigation, Andy,” she said. “This is a Torchwood case now; we do things our way.”

“I dunno,” Andy muttered. “What I’ve seen from the _others_ seemed quite professional to me. Even though they sometimes behave like pre-school kids...”

But Gwen was heading to the car – _Andy’s car!_ – already, waving him impatiently. “Well? Are you driving or not?”

Since the alternative would have been to allow _Gwen_ to drive his beloved car, Andy slid behind the steering wheel obediently and started the engine.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
As soon as they walked through the door of the _Happy Cook_ , the first thing they saw was Gary Heimlich, sitting in a booth with someone surprisingly familiar. Andy started to understand things.

“Ain’t that the bloke from Eugene’s favourite video shop?” he asked. “The one who had the cheek to make you pay thirty-five pounds when you returned his DVDs?”

Gwen checked the man’s shoes against the still unidentified ones on the picture on Eugene’s phone camera.

“Oh, yes,” she said grimly, “but he’s something else, too. He’s the other one responsible for Eugene’s death.”

“In my opinion, there’s only one person responsible for Eugene’s death, and that’s Eugene himself,” Andy replied mercilessly. “He never used that supposedly great brain of his for anything good. Instead, he wasted his life away at _Passmore Telesales_ , waiting to meet some _alien_ who’d come back for its prosthetic eye… only to be cheated by his own mates and hit by a car. He was a stupid and useless bloke, and frankly, I don’t believe anyone would miss him – save perhaps that poor mother of his who’d have deserved a better son.”

Gwen stared at him in dramatically overdone shock, widening her eyes to proportions that would have frightened an octopus out of its mind, complete with the trembling lower lip routine. Despite what she _might_ have thought, it was _not_ an endearing sight. Not anymore. Not for Andy, who’d seen it once too often.

“But Andy,” she whined, “How can you say that? We’re here to _help_ people, ain’t we? To protect them…”

“Yes, we’re here to help people… people who really _need_ help,” Andy retorted, feeling unusually vicious for some reason he couldn’t quite explain himself. “People who can be helped… not some dead loser who’s beyond help already.”

“We owe him to find out how he died,” Gwen said doggedly.

“We _know_ how he died: he was run over by a car,” Andy replied. “No great mystery here. Now, if you wanna talk to these blokes, be my guest. But bring it to an end _now_. Your boss only gave you the weekend, and I must report to duty tomorrow again. Unlike you, I’m still with the police, and _my_ duty still is to help people.”

Gwen gave him a wounded look. “I don’t need you to protect me!” she declared forcefully.

“Yes, you do,” Andy retorted. “So do what you must, but do it quickly, before your boss arrives to collect you. He’s on his way here.”

After a moment of hesitation, Gwen, surprisingly enough, nodded and headed directly at Gary and the video shop guy.

“You two,” she said without preamble. “You’ve cheated Eugene with that hiked bid, didn’t you? Why on Earth would you do that?”

Gary Heimlich rolled his eyes. “Look, we did it as a joke to cheer him up, all right? We didn’t think there would be actual buyers.”

“Then he said he though it would be the alien… well, that was funny, wasn’t it?” Josh, the video shop clerk added. “But then we thought, ‘Let him dream. Life’s short and really boring.’ So we went on betting, and then…”

“Then this rich old fool entered the scene, and the bids rocketed skywards,” Andy finished for them. “And you realized that the artefact could bring in _really_ big money. And when the rich old fool figured out that he was being set up and let you win, you decided to take that piece of junk off Eugene and re-sell it online, right?”

“Right,” Gary admitted, looking a bit guiltily.

Andy glanced at Gwen. “You see? No big mystery here. I assume Eugene wasn’t willing to give you the thing just like that. He tried to run away, you chased him across the car park, he blundered onto the road and got hit… didn’t he?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Josh admitted glumly.

“Okay,” Andy said. “You’re both greedy little bastards, but as I see things, you aren’t murderers. You might be partially responsible, but so was Eugene… and everyone willing to pay huge sums for a so-called alien artefact. Case closed. It wasn’t a real crime, just a case of very human greed. Let’s go Gwen.”

“But… but we can’t just leave it be as it is!” Gwen protested indignantly.

Andy rolled his eyes. “Yes, we can, and we will. There’s nothing else to do. There was nothing to do to begin with. It was an accident, and these two didn’t even make a penny out of that whole scheme of theirs. Eugene died as uselessly as he’d lived. And that is, basically, it.”

“But… but…” Gwen still wasn’t quite willing to give in.

“No buts,” Andy said firmly. "Your boss will be picking you up within moments, and I really need to go home and have an afternoon for myself, after all this. It’s over, Gwen. Deal with it… or don’t. I’m outta it.”

“Are we supposed to let these just get away unscathed?” Gwen insisted, looking at Gary and Josh accusingly.

Andy shrugged. “I wouldn’t call having to live with the knowledge that my mate died because of my greed _unscathed_ , but if you want to call it _that_ , then yes, we are,” he said. “They’ll have to make it out with their conscience, and that will be punishment enough, I suppose. But there’s nothing we could – or _should_ – do about it. Come on.”

Gwen reluctantly followed him out of the _Happy Cook_. At the same moment as they crossed the car park, the Torchwood SUV pulled up next to them.

“Hello, stranger,” Dr. Harper got out of the car on the passenger side and threw a paper bag at here. “Here, catch!”

Gwen caught the bag, opened it, looked inside… then shrieked and nearly dropped it.

“Is that the eye?” she asked, fascination warring with disgust on her face.

“The doctor nodded. “Yep; and a fake one, at that. Just some plastic Halloween toy. Not worth more than perhaps fifty pences – and sure as Hell not worth dying for.”

“You can’t be sure about that,” Gwen argued.

“Yes, we can, and yes, we are,” the doctor replied, a little impatiently. “We’ve done all the tests… and besides, Jack has seen the real item often enough. It _is_ a fake. You can keep it as a souvenir.”

Gwen shook her head. “Nah, I’ll place it on the spot where the accident happened… as a memento.”

“A memento of utter stupidity?” the doctor asked sourly.

Gwen gave him a look that said _you heartless bastard_ without actually saying it, and walked away with the eye. At the same time, a blue car came around the bend of the rood, tires screeching. Gwen paid it no attention, walking across the road in a dream-like state, focusing on her charitable task. Andy felt cold shivers running down his spine as he watched the car pass… and _not_ in a good way.

“Gwen!” he shouted, running to her already, yet knowing there was no way to reach her in time. “Watch out!”

Gwen stopped in the middle of the road, looking around in puzzlement. There was an expression of shocked surprise on her face when the car hit her frontally, with a speed of at least sixty miles per hour. She was hurled to the side, rolled over and hit her head on the asphalt, really hard. The car drove on, without slowing down.

Dr. Harper ran to the body lying on the roadside, felt for Gwen’s pulse and found nothing. He looked up to Captain Harkness and shook his head in regret. Standing next to him, Andy looked down at his ex-partner and sighed. She’d been a pain in the arse, true, but not even she’d deserved to be killed so casually like that. Just because a drunken driver couldn’t be arsed to keep to the speed limit. But again, that was not such a rare occurrence on the A48.

She died exactly the same way as Eugene. If one thought about it, there was a certain tragic symmetry in the whole case… not that it would be any comfort for poor Rhys.

Andy turned to Captain Harkness who got out of the SUV with an unhappy frown.

“I’ll deal with the police,” he offered. “No need for Torchwood to be involved at all. It was a simple accident, I was eyewitness, and everyone at the police station knows what Gwen was like.”

Captain Harkness nodded. “We owe you one,” he said.

“And I intend to collect my debts,” Andy replied, looking at Toshiko, who was still sitting in the SUV. “I’ll give you a call about that dinner date of ours when I’ve wrapped up the case.”

“Any time,” she answered, blushing prettily.

~The End – for now~


End file.
